


knocking on death’s door

by aslanjades



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Afterlife, Ash is dead, Eiji is only mentioned, Post-Canon, Spoilers, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslanjades/pseuds/aslanjades
Summary: Ash knew he was in the afterlife by the way he felt.The light around him was overwhelming, as was the lightness within him. If his feet weren’t touching the ground, he would have thought he was floating both mentally and physically, drifting through white space, worrying about nothing at all.Is this what peace feels like?Ash sees a few familiar faces in the afterlife and gets some sound advice.





	knocking on death’s door

ASH KNEW HE WAS IN THE AFTERLIFE BY THE WAY HE FELT.

The light around him was overwhelming, as was the lightness within him. If his feet weren’t touching the ground, he would have thought he was floating both mentally and physically, drifting through white space, worrying about nothing at all. 

_Is this what peace feels like?_

Peace was a phenomenon he’d hardly come to know in his life, but as he lifted his hand and watched beams of light hit it from every angle, he thought he might have been the closest to peace he’d ever reached. When he took a breath and could breathe, really _breathe_ without feeling like he was suffocating, he was sure the word peace could, for once, describe how he felt.

Was this what he resisted so long? Was this what he fought tooth and nail against?

He was still wearing his coat, still in the black turtleneck he had put on in the morning. In a way, things were the same as they had been then, when he was walking down below—or wherever earth was. But as Ash cautiously stepped forward, his steps echoing in the space around him, he felt . . . different. Unsettled.

Lost.

His steps promptly halted as he came face to face with a door. Where it led, he didn’t know, so he just stared, eventually reaching out to touch the handle to see if it was really there. Sure enough, the brass was cold against his fingers. So, slowly, he twisted it and pulled it back, green eyes widening in wonder at what he saw.

Skip.

It had been a more than a year since he’d seen the boy who trusted him so much, the boy he went through so much for in hopes of avenging his death. Ash still blamed himself sometimes and still heard the gunshots, that unshakable sound with such a large impact.

“Ash?”

No words would come out when Ash opened his mouth to respond.

Skipper seemed to understand—he was always so young but so understanding—walking towards Ash and wrapping his arms around him. Ash bent down, his body first unable to respond in any other way. With time, he returned the hug, one hand at the back of Skip’s head and the other on his back.

“You’re safe.”

“Yeah. It’s a bit lonely, but I’ve got him,” he pointed behind him to a beyond Ash couldn’t see. “And get this; he can talk now.”

Griff. 

Ash lifted his head, looking over Skip’s shoulder. Griff was _here,_ he was really here—

Later. He would see him later. 

Now, he had some catching up to do.

“I’m sorry,” Ash weakly whispered, head hung. He shook his head, willing himself not to think about that day again. Those days were over. All of it was over.

“What?” Skip chuckled. _Chuckled_ as he was talking about his death, which Ash could hardly believe. “No way. You did what you could. You were always so strong, Ash. A real inspiration. You risked yourself for me and Eiji, knowing you could have stayed out of it . . . It’s exactly like you. That’s just the way you are.”

Ash couldn’t tell if it was hearing the teenager speak of him so fondly or the sound of Eiji’s name that made his head snap back up.

“Speaking of Eiji, how is he? Is he still around?”

Ash knitted his eyebrows together. “You can’t look down from here?”

“Nah, that’s a myth. This is the first time I’m seeing you since back then.” Skip grinned, raising up his eyebrows. “Did you get taller?”

Ash faintly smiled, but he couldn’t find it in him to widen it. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Eiji . . . he got hurt. He’s headed back to Japan. I was supposed to go meet him, but . . . ”

Just to see, Ash lifted up the bottom of his shirt. There was a bright red line where he was stabbed, like a scar just beginning to heal.

“It takes some getting used to.” Skip’s voice was lower, more dismal. He gave Ash a weak attempt at another smile, similar to the one Ash offered him. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early, but I missed you, and so did he. You should go see him.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Ash stood, patting Skipper on the shoulder and comfortingly leaving his hand there for a few moments after. When he got a nod in return, a momentary farewell, Ash lifted his hand and walked towards the light.

“Ash,” Skipper called after him. Ash turned around, facing him at nearly the same distance they were at when Ash saw him last. Skip genuinely smiled, placing a closed fist over his heart. “Thank you. For everything.”

Ash nodded. “Thank _you_.”

With that, Ash headed towards the door that was becoming more and more visible with every step he took. When he stood right in front of it, he took a deep breath, hand halting when he reached to touch the knob. What would he say? What could he say? Ash had so much to tell him—all about the boy he had come to love, about how he went through hell finding the root of the drug that killed him and destroying it . . . 

He closed his hand around the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled, using his forearm to shield his eyes from the blinding light.

When his eyes adjusted, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Griff, as he was before he left to join the military, aside from the wheelchair. Ash could tell he was feeling, no longer in the neverending trance Banana Fish put him in. His eyes were closed, fingers tapping on the armrests of his wheelchair. 

Ash stepped forward, the echoing sound making Griff open his eyes. He blinked once. Twice. Then his shaking hands were going to the wheels of his wheelchair, pushing them as quickly as he could, and Ash was closing the distance as his walking shifted to running, no, _sprinting._

And when the space between them was small enough to touch each other, Ash fell to his knees and placed his head on Griff’s legs, the way he did when he would talk to him and get no response. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying.

Sensing Ash’s attempt to keep himself together, Griff tsked, “Don’t cry, Aslan. What did I tell you all those years ago?”

Nevertheless, Griffin put a hand atop Ash’s head, soothingly stroking his hair. “I’m here.”

“They’re gone. All of it is gone. It’s done.” When Ash looked up to see Griff staring down at him with confused eyes, he felt a shiver go down his spine as he prepared to say the only words Griff would mutter to him once: “Banana Fish.”

Griff softly smiled, gesturing for Ash to stand. When Ash got to his feet, Griff wheeled himself around a bit as if pacing. 

“I never meant to make you bear this burden.” Ash stood, motionless, heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to yell that it wasn’t his fault, that he blamed _himself_ more than he blamed him, but he was too fixated on what Griff was going to say. Looking at Ash over his shoulder, Griff continued, “I shouldn’t have left.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ash immediately interjected. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have left you with Meredith. I should’ve known better—”

“Listen to me, Aslan.” Ash was far from obedient, but he shut his mouth in an instant. In fact, he stopped talking so quickly that Griff laughed a little before a frown replaced that small smile. “Sometimes, I think, what if I never left for the military? What if I stayed home with Ash? How different would things be?”

”You never would’ve met Max.”

“Max?” The name stuns Griff into silence. “Did you . . . did you meet him?”

“It’s a funny story.” It didn’t seem like the right time to bring up the fact that he was framed for murder and sent to prison. Even without the details, Griff seemed suspicious, his nod a little too slow and his lips pursed. “You know he . . . ”

“Was it him? My legs?” Griff looked down at them. They were still paralyzed, even in the afterlife. At Ash’s silence, he sighed. “I don’t blame him. Does he think I do?”

“You would have to ask him. You’ve got a _great_ taste in friends, you know.” Despite being sarcastic, Ash felt a tug in his heart. “He was good to me.”

Griff wheeled back towards him. “I’m glad.”

For a moment, Ash thought of everything he went through with Max, a reel of memories replaying in his head. How would he react when he heard the news? Would he collect his body? 

Ash pushed the thoughts away, choosing to focus on something lighter. “I need to tell you about someone I met.”

Griff cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“His name is Eiji. I wish you could’ve met him. You would have loved him. It’s . . . ” Ash paused, looking down as if the ground would open up and show him an image of Eiji peacefully sleeping on the plane as he headed back home, chest rising and falling and eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “It’s hard not to.”

“Did you? Love him, I mean.”

The question stole Ash’s breath, but it wasn’t hard to answer. He had thought about it often, considered it as he clutched Eiji’s letter during his final hours, as he reconsidered his decision to go knowing he had reasons to stay, one of those being Eiji. “I did. I do.”

“Then I wish I could have been there to see, too.” Griff smiled, then gestured towards the unventured light. “There’s someone else waiting for you. I think you have a lot to discuss.”

Ash hated that that someone else could be anyone. He’d lost too many people to count using all his fingers, and he remembered having words he regretted never saying to each of them.

“I still have so much to tell you—”

“I’m not going anywhere, little brother. Not again.”

Ash stared at his brother, etching the sight of him slightly smiling into his memory. He’s missed seeing that. The memories of him doing it before had been slipping through his fingers for years.

They would see each other again.

Ash nodded and faced the light, taking a dip into the unknown with slow steps. The walk seemed longer than the previous two, the light more blinding and the door he came to stand before taller.

Before he could think too hard, he took the knob in his head and turned it, stepping into the next room. His eyes took some time to adjust, but when the overwhelming white seemed to lose some of its brightness, he narrowed his eyes to make out the figure who had his back to him.

Tall, muscular frame. Unmistakable purple hair. A darkened red spot on his back, just where his heart should be.

Just where the bullet Ash shot went right out of him.

“Shorter. . . ”

At the sound of his name, Shorter turned around, sunglasses obstructing Ash’s view of his eyes. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady beats—he was breathing. He was _alive_ in some way, no longer sickeningly still as he had been after Ash fired the bullet that ended his life in the blink of an eye.

When Ash stepped forward, legs slightly wobbling as if they’d collapse if his steps weren’t slow, Shorter took off his sunglasses. Then he narrowed his eyes and began to shake his head to himself. He whispered a mere, “No.”

“Shorter, It’s _me_ —“

“No, no, no.” He nearly fell as he frantically walked backward, away from Ash. He looked . . . horrified. He looked far similarly as he did when he was still drugged and still convinced that he had to kill Eiji. 

Ash felt his heart sink.

Was it because of the fatal wound he gave him? Was this what he thought of Ash now—that he was a murderer? _His_ murderer?

“Ash,” Shorter said, voice sounding forced, like he was barely able to get them out of his throat. Ash daringly took another step. Shorter didn’t step back, rather clenching his teeth and turning his head away. When he turned back, Ash understood.

He was crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’re so stupid,” Shorter managed, hands balled into fists at this side. “What is it? Why are you here?”

“It was Lao. He stabbed me.”

Shock flashed in Shorter’s eyes. Lao, his best friend? How? Why? 

But all traces of the emotion vanished in seconds. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered right now. Mustering all of his strength, Shorter dared to ask, “Was it fatal?”

Ash’s hand subconsciously went to the spot on his torso where his wound was. Was it fatal? No. He remembered feeling the fight defense automatically kick in, but opting for flight instead. He remembered walking back into the library hand clutching his wound, leaving drops of blood behind with every step. He chose to submit. It was so unlike him, but he knew the murderous world would just keep spinning. He would never escape it. 

He would never be happy.

To Ash’s surprise, Shorter walked forward until he was directly in front of him, just a few inches away from his face. With deadly calm, he said, “Go.”

“What?”

“You’re not done. I’ve seen you make it through more injuries worse than this than I can count. There are so many people who need you, Ash. The world needs you—“

“The world couldn’t care less about me!”

“Then live for Eiji! Live for you, dammit!” Ash merely blinked at the way Shorter yelled, louder and more guttural than ever before. He meant it. He would yell at the top of his lungs, scream until his voice was gone if it meant Ash would listen. “You deserve peace. You deserve freedom. And I promise you, Ash; this isn’t it. You’re dying because you don’t want to fight. _Fight_.”

Ash’s breath hitched.

He had it all wrong. This wasn’t peace. The blinding white all around him wasn’t the white of rebirth and purity. It was a flag of surrender engulfing him. A flag he never waved willingly. 

Upon making the realization, Ash felt the desire to turn back, but he knew that was hardly an option now. How much time had passed in this supposedly blissful existence? How long had he been sitting in the library, slumped over? Did they already find his body? “It’s too late.”

“You’ve beaten the odds before. Shut every door behind you. Go home, Ash.”

Shorter held out his hand, and somehow Ash knew exactly how to respond. When they did their handshake, it was almost like they were the teenagers they were once before.

Then Ash backed away, walking towards the light, refusing to surrender. Soon enough, the walking became a dead sprint, a race against time. He passed through the door and flung it shut behind him.

_But I’m not saying goodbye, Shorter._

Then he was running towards Griff, stopping to lean down and hug him. Ash felt Griff squeeze him and closed his eyes, memorializing the moment. When Ash pulled back from the hug, his brother looked at him with wide, confused eyes, which then shifted to understanding. “You’re going to him.”

“I still have so much to tell you,” Ash repeated.

Griff nodded. “But it can wait.”

Indeed, it could.

After he shut the door behind him, he didn’t feel any sorrow; he felt rather liberated, actually. He’d finally gotten the closure he needed to carry on. 

Again, he ran like he did when he saw the plane ticket to Japan with his name on it. And when Skip saw him, he shouted, “I knew you would come to your senses!”

He was leaving them behind, but it wouldn’t be forever. He would be back after he lived the life he always wanted but never felt he could obtain. With time, he would be back. For now, he wanted to live.

He shut the door behind him. 

When he faced the final door, the door leading back to his body, back to the library, and back to those he almost left behind. He grabbed the handle and twisted it, but it stopped halfway. Ash tried to twist the knob again and again and again until he was frantically shaking it and repeatedly muttering ‘ _no_ ’ under his breath.

It couldn’t be too late.

As he pounded on the door with a fist, shaking the knob with his other hand, he yelled the name of the boy he wanted to go to most, the boy he loved, the boy he wanted to live with at the top of his lungs, his throat burning as he screamed. “Eiji!”

He wanted to go to Japan. He wanted to grow old, maybe even with Eiji. He wanted to beat the odds again, and he’d fight like hell to recover and make it possible. 

He wanted to breathe again. 

He wanted to live.

One moment Ash was screaming Eiji’s name, and the next it was a mere whisper.

He woke up. He opened his eyes, lifting his head to see the tables and the bookshelves around him. Eiji’s letter was bloodstained beneath his hand, some of the ink smudged from Ash’s tears.

When he shifted to stand, Ash felt the pain in his abdomen again. He felt lightheaded, like he could fade out of consciousness at any moment.

But he was breathing, and that was enough.

“Excuse me.”

Upon hearing the feminine voice, Ash’s eyes shifted. She was already moving past him, squeezing behind his chair with an apologetic smile. Mustering his draining strength, he lifted the bloodied hand that he had atop his wound in front of her.

“Please . . . ” His voice was hoarse and barely audible, but it was there. “Help.”

He would fight.

And he would live.


End file.
